


The Miscellaneous Misadventures of Mister Nanu

by Sangheili



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: (gestures vaguely), Character Death, Fanart, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, lowkey savior complex, not all warnings are tagged, sorry - Freeform, there is no sexual content but an explicit rating is warranted for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangheili/pseuds/Sangheili
Summary: The curving sandstone of Cerulean's upper caverns are smooth and strangely deliberate, as if designed by an alien architect. The ceiling splits into a snaking view of a glimmering night sky. Nanu runs his hand along the wall, feeling leftover warmth from the previous day's sun soak into his palm. The rumors of a legendary pokemon living here are appropriate, he thinks. This is a place for godly beings, more powerful than anything the world has ever seen.He hasn't found it, of course, but he did find a man by a similar profile. Once. Twice. A few more times after that.An assortment of drabbles, short stories, and art created over the course of 2020.Updates will come whenever I get the chance to edit.
Relationships: Handsome | Looker/Lila | Anabel, Kuchinashi | Nanu/Sakaki | Giovanni
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Giovanni

**Author's Note:**

> Last March I revisited the pokemon fandom for the first time in about 7 years and became obsessed with Nanu. I haven't played Sun & Moon, I haven't watched the anime, and I'm way too old for this. 
> 
> The chapters posted here are fragments of Nanu’s life. They will not always transition consecutively like a novel but they are, for the most part, linear. I don't know why I felt compelled to write this at all and if anyone in the real world figured out that this is where my mind has been, I'd be embarrassed. 
> 
> Still, it was enjoyable to write. I'd like to believe there is something worthwhile in that.

**Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”**

The curving sandstone of Cerulean's upper caverns are smooth and strangely deliberate, as if designed by an alien architect. The ceiling splits into a snaking view of a glimmering night sky. Nanu runs his hand along the wall, feeling leftover warmth from the previous day's sun soak into his palm. The rumors of a legendary pokemon living here are appropriate, he thinks. This is a place for godly beings, more powerful than anything the world has ever seen.

He hasn't found it, of course, but he did find a man by a similar profile. Once. Twice. A few more times after that. 

Sableye chitters pleasantly behind him. Nanu turns to see the shape of Giovanni emerging from the dark. The moonlight hits the top of his head first, causing the hair to shimmer in a way that reminds Nanu of absols, zoroarks, and other beautiful dark-types made endangered for their pelts. Then the distinctive widow’s peak, square jaw, and Rocket insignia come into view as well. 

Giovanni lets him play with the lapels of his suit and earns a chuckle from the other man as he leans into the touch. He smells earthy and sweet, like freshly dug clay. 

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Nanu asks. 

Giovanni tilts his head and pulls a rock out of his slacks. "Moonstone." He says quietly, rolling it in his palm. The irregular facets glimmer in the dim light. "Dugtrio found it in the rimstone dams.”

Nanu has only seconds to look incredulous before Giovanni presses the stone’s surface to his lips.

There are many reasons why this moment will live vividly in Nanu's memory for the remainder of his life: the tingle of magic on his tongue; the rumble of Giovanni’s voice; the thrilling taboo of criminal hands on his chest; on the face of his police badge. 

Giovanni kisses him under the ear and Nanu's body shudders in reply. He knows better than to believe this joy will be anything more than fleeting. But that, too, makes it all the more precious.   
  
Tonight, they are together. 

Tonight, they are alone. 

The cavern is beautiful, the sky is full of stars, and Nanu feels loved. 

* * *

**Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did**

Nanu saw Silver only once, from across the street, on the patio of a cafe in Celadon City. The boy was 34 inches tall at the time and clung to his father like an aipom. Giovanni’s eyes stayed on the acquaintance at his table but he absentmindedly drank in the touch, pressing the child close and covering the vulnerable spot in his skull. If not for his son, Persian would have occupied this space. Giovanni's hands were always clinging to precious things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I offer a playlist for this rarepair.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6OkIVLdNgwyIl8wcEelkQ7?si=ACeU2RO5SJG9SQ_OLwDB6g)   
>    
> 


	2. Persian (Art)




	3. Faller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>   
> 

**Brontide – The low rumbling of distant thunder**

Looker is attempting to tell Nanu a joke that he learned from a fisherman on the docks. It's lewd and he can’t remember the punchline. “I don’t know how I forgot.” Looker says, frustrated with himself. “It’s a play on the word Pikachu.”

“Perhaps it’s a reference to peeping toms.” Nanu muses.“Because of the ‘pi’ like ‘peek’, ‘peek at you.” Now that Nanu thinks about it, he is pretty sure that he’s heard this joke before. He can’t remember the punchline either.

“Well now it’s not funny anymore.” Looker huffs. “I’ve spent too long trying to explain it.”

Nanu shrugs and crosses his arms over the boat railing. It's five in the morning. They're sailing on course for Poni island. The sun is a broken yolk on the horizon. The air is impeccably crisp. Nanu feels as if this is the sort of view that any reasonable person would have the sense to appreciate. He will never understand Looker’s insistence on spoiling his own mood over such trivial things.

A wingull whizzes over and nearly clips the tops of their heads as it alights onto the shoulder of its trainer. She is a young field agent; a water type specialist with a penchant for blue clothing. She has a round face and delicate features that tug at something possessive in Nanu’s psyche. She looks as if she’d been moving to join the two senior agents but is frozen, intimidated now that they’re staring at her.

Nanu has to fight the urge to smirk when he glances sideways. He can see the moment in which Looker is seized by the instinct to watch his mouth around a lady. His expression changes instantly from irritation to shame.

“Come join us, Faller.” Nanu says.

She approaches and takes a spot by Nanu’s side. “What were you guys talking about?”

“It is nothing.” Looker says.

“It is something.” Faller insists.

“Really, it isn’t.”

“If you don’t share, I can only assume you said something horrible about me.”

Looker stiffens up. He knows that she is pulling his leg, but there’s an undertone of sincerity to the accusation. He is clearly hiding something. Gossip is not an unreasonable guess.

“Looker was telling a dirty joke.” Nanu offers.

Faller is delighted, “Oh, Looker? Having perverted thoughts?”

Looker stares helplessly at Nanu and then at the floor. Betrayed. Harassed.

“Mister Looker! What was the joke?”

In lieu of a response, Looker dedicates himself to moping. This is his talent; his strength. A lifetime of bullying has allowed him to master the art of appearing pitiful. Deprived of the ability to find any more pleasure from the man's suffering, Nanu and Faller reluctantly ease off, laughing to themselves the whole time.

**Dystopia - An imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell.**

Nanu can't remember what happened. Not really. From the moment the beast attacked, his relationship with reality seemed to disconnect. Nothing makes sense in his memory and nothing makes sense now. If he had to trust his own senses, they would say that the sky became two-dimensional and crashed down onto their heads. Everything was impossibly bright. It burned behind his eyes; inside of his bones. And ever since he woke up in this... cavern (this is the only word Nanu can think to describe it) Faller has been lying speechless on the floor, engaged in a slow death that leaves her grey-eyed and perpetually choking. 

Three days. This is the extent to which a human is supposed to be able to survive without water. Nanu is pretty sure they’ve been here for at least four, and he hasn’t been able to make her drink anything. He doesn’t understand how she is still alive.

——

Nanu is a member of the international police. He is accustomed to death, blood and gore. He does not gag or vomit easily. However, this is one thing he cannot stand.

The smell.

Because suddenly, Faller’s digestive tract has begun to move again, and whatever is coming out isn’t just human waste but the remains of a body eating itself, fermenting for days before reaching the open air. The potency of it permeates the room, presses against his sinuses and gives him an endless headache. He cannot get used to it. 

—-

Nanu goes to wipe the hair from Faller’s face and makes contact with the tips of her fingers. Her hand shoots out automatically and grips his forearm like a vice. Nanu looks to her eyes, but they are still vacant. This is a reflex; one with adrenaline-fueled tenacity that he cannot escape without harming her further. Stuck in place, Nanu lies down and finds himself watching Faller’s face. The skin inside her mouth is a grey mush, and her breathing so loud that it sounds almost like an attempt to speak. He stares until the vocalizations escalate to muffled screams; after which he turns and stares up at the ceiling.

Nanu does not realize how numb he is until this moment. It is as if his capacity for emotion has been tranquilized and tethered into place. This is something to be grateful for, he decides, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to function if he could feel what he should.

——

At a later time that Nanu can no longer specify, Faller says his name. The sound is dry and distorted. Nanu walks over, thinking he’d heard wrong. But her eyes move in his direction with startling clarity.

“Zeroes,” She says again, “where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m dying.”

“… yes.”

“Help me.”

“I’m trying. I don’t know what you need. Please tell me what you need.”

Faller drops her gaze from the ceiling and shakes her head. The gesture is impatient, as if she had asked for the weather and was given the time. Her brow furrows and she swallows as if trying to remember herself. The movement is so familiar and Nanu is so out of it that it almost feels normal; like he just said something stupid and Faller is taking a moment to stop herself from snapping at him.

This is not what Faller is doing. She is trying to focus. Her body is broken in ways that can’t be fixed and it takes an extraordinary amount of concentration to speak.

She, too, does not understand how she is still alive. She only knows that the pain will get worse and she is terrified of living through it. And so when Faller collects herself, she asks Nanu to put a bullet through her head. 


	4. Looker

**"Stay in bed, please."**

Nobody knows what happened to Faller.

Nanu cannot give an honest account without incriminating himself. 

He isn't sure if he can trust his own recollection anyway. He was in bad shape when Looker found him; unconscious and hyperventilating on the sands of Poni Beach. Of all the ordeals he faced on this mission, Mother Nature is what nearly killed him. Heat exhaustion escalated to heatstroke by the time Looker was driving him to the hospital. And in his first cognizant encounter with a doctor, she tutted her tongue and figured he’d been saved about thirty minutes short of permanent brain damage. (Or as a resident said quietly, but not so quietly that he couldn’t hear: Thirty minutes short of shitting in a bedpan for the rest of his life.) 

Still, the heat cooked his insides. Literally. Disintegrating muscle tissue poisoned his blood and destroyed all function in his kidneys. Revival from this was tedious; a long blur of dialysis and medical transport and stiff, plastic beds. It wasn't a good time. Nanu knows that much. But when he tries to recall anything specific about it, the memories slip from his grasp like an evanescent dream. 

**“Please say something.”**

Every disaster proves useful for someone, it seems, and this one ended in Looker finding a girlfriend. 

More specifically, she washed up on the shores of Poni island soon after Nanu. Nobody knows what the hell to make of it, least of all her. She has no memory of her past life, and yet possesses every skill required of an interpol field agent. There is zero evidence of a missing person who resembles her in the slightest. 

Anabele is tall. Her shoulders are imposing. Her eyes move with a sharp, subtle patience. There are two additional observations that Nanu cannot help but make about Anabele. The first is that her face (specifically the slight, upward turn of her nose) reminds him of Faller. This resemblance gives him whiplash every time he looks at her. It is painful and comforting  in equal measure. 

The second thing is that Anabele's presence created a shift in the  office dynamic while he was gone. Most notably, Nanu can feel Looker pulling away from him. 

And that's fine. Really. The dorky detective hasn't gotten this wiggly over a girl since he was an intern. Nanu is happy for him. 

Nanu definitely has other friends. 

—-

At the present moment, about a quarter past 5, Anabele is absent from Looker’s side as he sidles up to Nanu’s office. This is unusual. 

Nanu immediately crashes into him on the way out. Then he flinches and stumbles back into a filing cabinet, knocking a basket of pens to the floor. 

“Um,” Looker mumbles, raising his hands placatingly, “I was wondering-“

“Fuck.” Nanu mutters, clamping a hand over his heart.

“I’m sorry. Um-“

“What do you want?” 

“I wanted to ask if I could take you to dinner?”

Nanu's squints at him.“What?”

Looker furrows his brows. “Dinner…” He says again, faltering as if trying to simplify the concept without making Nanu feel like an imbecile.

“Why? Where’s Anabele?”

“Well, that’s- ah… she’s busy.”

"Busy." Nanu repeats. 

"Yes." Looker says. Then he crouches down and begins to pick pens off the floor. His face hovers dangerously close to the older agent's knee, and Nanu surprises himself by feeling a sudden urge to kick the man's teeth in. 

-

They didn’t get dinner. Looker wanted to go somewhere way too decent and Nanu had been dealing with an anxious nausea all day that killed his appetite entirely. In all honesty, the idea of having the man pay for his meal didn’t sit well with him, either. The precedent that it set seemed... unnecessary.  
  
Eventually they ended up at a booth in a retro lounge. Nanu gave his credit card to the waiter, flipped through the too-large laminated menu, and ordered nothing but Coors light for both of them. 

Conversation is something that usually comes naturally between them, but tonight they find themselves needing to think about it and coming up short. The silence isn't something that bothers Nanu but Looker is currently staring sideways at the checkered wall with thinly veiled frustration. “You can order something if you’re hungry.” Nanu says. 

Looker shakes his head. “No, it's fine. I just wanted to talk.” 

“About?”

“Well, the UB case. It has occurred to me that we never took the time to speak about this outside of formal affairs and… as your field partner, perhaps this was negligence on my part, given the obvious, erm, potential emotional stress it might be causing you." 

”Now you’re concerned?” Nanu immediately regrets the question as soon as it comes out of his mouth. His intention was to point out that it's strange to be having this conversation four months after the fact, but the tone only comes across as bitter. 

“Zeroes," Looker says at length, "did something else happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before I found you. After the attack.”

“No.”

Looker takes a deep breath. It’s a carefully measured sound that makes Nanu feel as if he’s being handled rather than talked to.

“Anabele told me you’ve been calling her by Faller’s name.”

Nanu looks away, down at the table. It is one of those timeless surfaces can be found at any economical family restaurant: yellow wood coated in thick, old epoxy; the kind that’s been smoothed like a tumbled rock under millions of tiny scratches; under countless meals and conversations. How old is this wood?

“She says that you call her by Faller’s name like you are testing her. Like you think she will only respond if you two are speaking alone, or if she is taken off guard.”

Maybe it’s just plastic that’s been painted to look like wood. (Is that possible?) Maybe, he would expect it to look more tacky. 

“Zeroes.”

Something is wrong, but it's wrong in the sort of way that can only be forgotten. 

Okay. Maybe "forgotten" is the wrong word. The issue itself, horrific and untouchable, sits perpetually on the forefront of his mind. A flickering memory. An occasional realization. Nanu's inability to grasp it on an emotional level is what keeps it truly out of reach. It is vital for this to stay out of reach. 

“Faller and Anabele are two different people. Do you understand this?”

“I- yes." 

“Anabele is not Faller.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling her by Faller’s name?”

“Did I do that?”

"Yes, Zeroes." Looker is getting annoyed now. "You're making her uncomfortable and you need to stop." 

Something about the way Nanu blinks causes Looker's expression to soften, but it softens in a way that feels... unnatural. "I'm sorry. Perhaps Faller's disappearance has been harder on you than I initially realized. But you didn't see her die. So maybe she is alive. Maybe, one day, we will find her on the shore of a beach just like we did with you, or Anabele." 

His voice doesn't sound right either. It's not his natural brand of kindness. It's... 

_It's his good cop voice._

"Are you okay?" Looker asks.   


No. Nanu wants to throw up and is trying desperately to channel the urge into an expression that hopefully looks more pissed off than heartbroken. “Did you ask me out to interrogate me?”   


Looker's eyes narrow to an almost imperceptible degree. “Is there a reason you think I might do that?”   


Nanu leans back. It is suddenly easier to look pissed off. “I rank above you, Looker. Fucking act like it and talk to me straight.” 

The muscles of Looker's jaw flex in a faint movement that carries all the way up to his temple.  “Okay, fine. There is something I don't understand about your mission report. You said you were unconscious for the entirety of the time that you were missing, and yet there’s a discharged bullet from your gun that you claim was used on the beast. I saw both of you getting taken, Zeroes. There's no way you could've defended yourself."

Looker swallows, and there's a mixture of dread and disgust in his expression as he pauses to read Nanu's face. "So you either discharged that bullet while asleep, or you are lying. _Why_ would you lie about that?" 


	5. Persian (Part 2)

Nanu couldn’t say he “rescued” Mamabecause it implied that he’d picked some starving, pathetic kitten off the streets. This is too far from the truth. When he found her, she was living with a clowder of meowths that frequented the Sushi High Roller. She was rather chubby at the time with a big, worn-out belly from nursing too many kittens. Nanu made a habit of throwing her scraps and so she made a habit walking him home. One day, she helped herself through his front door and never left. 

-

The longer Mama stayed, the more chatty Nanu got. 

“I’m tired.” He’d sometimes say. Or, “My back hurts,” or, (if the local riffraff hassled him too much that day), “I don’t know why I let them put me in Po Town. This is all my own fault." (It's true. Interpol promised him a job after he went off duty. He could’ve requested a location, but didn’t want to blame himself if he didn’t like the place.)

He didn't think they'd give him this bad of a deal. 

Mama lifted her chin and looked at him politely when he talked to her. The angle emphasized the curve of her mouth and gave the impression of a grin.

Nanu didn’t realize it, but he often smiled back.

-

Mama sometimes climbed onto Nanu when he was lying down to sleep. She'd feel the warmth of skin beneath his pajamas and dig her claws into him at the demand of an ancient instinct. The kneading and suckling hurt, but Nanu found himself closing his eyes and focusing on the stinging sensation. It had a way of pulling the ache right out of his chest.


End file.
